


The Goddess and The Green Man

by ButifulDeath



Category: Changeling: the Dreaming, World of Darkness (Games)
Genre: Fauns & Satyrs, Multi, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Mythology - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 15:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18166976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButifulDeath/pseuds/ButifulDeath
Summary: It is the night of Ostara, and Spring is returning. In The Grove of Polyhymnia, the revelry is waiting to begin as the rite of The Goddess and The Green Man commences.





	The Goddess and The Green Man

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short fiction I wrote after the new Changeling The Dreaming Beta Slice hit the Storyteller's Vault, that I might now use as a piece of a character background/history. I dunno if I'll do more chapters, but I certainly have at least the rest of this story arch plotted in my mind. We'll see. This is also still a bit WIP - I'll be cleaning it up as I have time.
> 
> Trago = A group of Satyrs in a coterie of sorts, usually for life.  
> Errant = new seeming in the beta slice
> 
> If you want to read the beta slice [it's free as of posting this], https://www.storytellersvault.com/product/268437/Minds-Eye-Theatre-Changeling-The-Dreaming-Beta-Slice-Playtest-Rules

    The passionate energies had begun to build the moment there were more than three people in The Grove. It couldn’t be helped - if you had multiple Satyrs in one location, vice would begin to outweigh inhibitions before the wine or opium began to flow. But then, wasn’t that the point of it all? Especially tonight, the night of all nights when the Goddess would be bedded by her lover The Green Man for all to witness as they brought life back to the world.  
    In other parts and other glades and other kingdoms, the Children of Danu would return from The Bright Road. Satyrs and Fae everywhere were having the biggest night of the year, facilitating others to shed their worries, doubts and burdens to celebrate the return of Persephone from the Underworld, Spring, Life and Glamour after the long, cold Winter. The world would revel tonight.  
    But there in The Grove, was Polyhymnia’s ritual - and the Satyr priestess felt anticipation like a tangible thing in the air. There would be song and dance, wine, food, sex, anything a heart desired. Her brothers and sisters would bring mortals for a night, other fae from the area would join, and there would be the grand ceremony where the King was crowned and took his Queen in the revel… and the orgy would begin. Of course Polly would be conducting it like a symphony, as was her role as Priestess, or Ieria of Dionysus and Maenad of The Revel, rather than participating. But that was fine - the night would last longer than the ritual, and there would be time to partake before the sun rose.  
    The sky was finally dark over the thin copse of trees that covered her grove, and from her perch on the time-worn stone that had become her unofficial throne, she watched as the fires grew brighter and the revelers gathered in growing anticipation. The rite would begin when she was ready, but there was one personal, selfish game she played with herself of which she’d yet to complete; her wagers on King and Queen. At her word, the attendees would begin mingling and talking, flirting and fondling until each individual came to a decision to give away their wreath of flowers to the person they wished to nominate for The Green Man role. The individual, satyr or otherwise, with the most wreaths would then be crowned Green Man, and would select from the admirers a Queen, at which point they would dance near the fire, and begin to fornicate symbolically (and quiet literally) in effigy of the divine coupling that gave rebrith to the world each yearly cycle. Once the chosen Queen was satisfied, the orgy would commence in celebration.  
    Most years, the King was a male of some variety, and as was the nature of their kind was usually a satyr. But not every year. In fact, the previous year, a Wilder Ghillie Dhu visiting from Arcadia had been selected as King, and taken her female, mortal lover as Queen. It had been a beautiful display. And of course, Polly had made her private wager with herself and been spot on. She was right almost every year, and even the years that she wasn’t spot on with both, she could nail down one, King or Queen.  
    And this year was no different.  
    He’d not been in the first wave of early arrivals, but he’d appeared in The Grove with a Sluagh and a Redcap in and around the second wave of arrivals. Unseelie no doubt, and while he seemed surprisingly reserved for a satyr in general, his curling horns spoke of late Wilder or Eidolon seeming. He’d no doubt learned to curb his enthusiasm, despite the confident and knowing, lopsided smirk she’d seen pass his lips numerous times now.  
    His dark hair was long, with a few thin whisps of grey at one temple, but he still looked young in his heart-shaped face… and didn’t seem to have the full beard most satyrs wore so proudly. But… it didn’t detract from his magnetic appearance. His eyes, deep-set and dangerous, glanced over the crowd, and had lingered on her more than a few times now with palpable weight. Polly pretended to not notice - she was, after all, very much a noticeable installation of the revel. Bright, unnaturally colored red hair, long with dreads and braids over her horns and the trinkets and decor throughout chiming and swaying over her nude torso. Her horns and shoulders were laden with flowers and ribbons tonight, as was the stave indicative of her position. The black fur of her goat legs groomed and adorned with silver in a few places, she was well aware of how striking she was amidst the sea of earth-tones prevalent amongst her kind. Many would stare, or take notice of her numerous times.  
    She wasn’t certain why the weight of his gaze seemed heavier than the rest.  
    His own legs had undergone the transformation the dreams of the Romans had brought them. She had not been one to willingly adopt them, but when the dreams of the Dreamers had brought her the change organically, she’d conceded. The satyr with whom she was distracted shared this feature in a similar dark hair to that on his head, and the handsome patches on his chest and below his navel blending together as it trailed lower.  
    She didn’t look away. Why would she? He was covered by a tabard somewhat modestly - common amongst those who spent a majority of their time with mortals. But it did not fully hide his virility. As a smile tugged at her lips, Polly gave an internal sigh and averted her eyes elsewhere. He would be King this night. Which meant she would not be meant to enjoy what his modesty barely hid. A shame, really. She’d love to get to know him carnally, personally show him an evening he would not soon forget rather than the spectator she would inevitably be.  
    It stung a bit more than she expected, this admittance to herself. To distract from this, she took a deep breath in through her nose, and stood upon her rock. It was time to begin.  
    She didn’t have to raise a hand or speak, the Pipers of her trago halted their song save the drums, and a hush fell over the crowd. With naught but the crackling of the bonfires and the steady rhythm of the drums as her song, Polly smiled. It was going to be a good night.  
    “Welcome to my Grove, our Grove, for tonight. All of us gather here to celebrate the same thing - The coupling of the Divine and the rebirth of the world. As I am Ieria in dedication and service to Dionysus and of this Grove, I welcome those who are returning, and all newcomers alike.” She couldn’t help it, she looked at Him when she said newcomers, and her gaze lingered. His eyes were hazel-green and glued to her… and it was tantalizing.  
    “Tonight, you will choose a King from amongst you. A desirable, virile soul whom will fill the role of the Divine Father, The Green Man. You have all been gifted a wreath of flowers - When the music once again starts, and the food is served, mingle. Flirt,” she was still looking at Him, and she felt the grin spreading across her face as she added, “Fondle. Find our King - Man, Woman, Fae, Mortal… it matters not. Who amongst you is the most desirable to the majority of you? That soul will be our King. Our Green Man. Once our King is crowned, they will select their Queen. Man, Woman, Fae, Mortal… it matters not. The King will choose who they most desire from amongst the Revel… and they will dance. They will dance to the drums as the Goddess and her mate dance to the rhythm of the stars as well all observe - much like we do every cycle. All we can do is observe the dance of the heavens and sing worship to them.  
    “Then, The King will take their Queen to pleasure. Here, beside the largest bonfire.” She smiled. Her gaze had gone back to sweeping the crowd once more, the silence pregnant with both respect and anticipation. But now, her eyes landed once more on the Satyr with the dark hair and hazel-green eyes. “The King will pleasure the Goddess their Queen, staying their own pleasure until we may all join them in this symbolic act of lust and desire, encouraging the resurgence of life and Glamour into our world. Winter is over, Spring is coming-” That line got a few laughs, as it always did, and Polly smiled. “By the rising of the sun, it will arrive, and we will all know one another much better, going forward into the new year of life with joy, pleasure and new friends with whom to share it. So!” Lifting her hands, the minstrels began a soft crescendo as she concluded, “Eat. Drink. Be merry, and let the selection of The Green Man begin!”  
    Music back fully to life, Polly hopped down from her throne to the soft ground with cheers and applause as the revel leap to life. The din of laughter, talking, singing and general debauchery filled the grove. Glamour and all consumables flowed freely, filling her senses and providing a warm balm to her soul as the night made promises in a language even she couldn’t yet understand.  
    Through the sea of people now gathered, and from over the heads of her acolytes and well wishers, Polly watched the increasingly familiar horns of a hazel-green eyed satyr appeared over the crowd and inserted himself confidently into her little circle. His gaze was only for her, despite being aware of the conversationalists around him, and Polly found it impossible to turn her eyes away.  
    He already wore three wreaths in addition to his own.  
    As she watched the smug grin growing on his face, he ducked his head and accepted another from one of her own acolytes before they all faded into the crowd and leaving their Ieria to as much privacy as one could have in the Grove just then.  
    “Welcome,” she managed, one eyebrow arching nearer to her hairline in the attempt to keep her grin from being too wide. “I have not seen your face in my Grove before, friend.”  
    “Astraeus,” he said, closing a bit of distance between them and invading her personal space with his smirk. “And if this is your Grove, you are Polyhymnia.”  
    “I am,” she smirked. Ooh, he was a temptation given flesh. Certainly, all satyrs were. But he seemed tailored for her. His scent, his appearance, that smug smirk on his face… Polly had become accustomed to being the one in control of where the desires flowed. It was so rare to be under the sway of her own at the dictation of another. “But tomorrow, I will again be just Polly,” she smiled. “I would not mind you calling me such.”  
    “As you would like to know me tomorrow?” he purred.  
    “I would like to know you tonight,” she answered, leaning in a touch to him, “And then again tomorrow. Repeatedly.”  
    There it was, that slightly shaky breath he took in at her forwardness. Well at least the weak knees were going both ways. Feeling a bit clearer now, Polly stood from her lean, but let him step to press the line of his body to hers. The small bit of fabric around his waist did nothing to hide the power of his… virility.  
    “I am happy to grant those wishes for you, my lady,” he rumbled and leaned in, one hand in the small of her back as he tilted his head to lay a kiss on her clavicle without entangling his horns in her hair.  
    A truly magnificent thrill went through her body at this - not since her days as an Errant had she felt such burning, immediate and unbridled yearning for someone… especially someone it seemed likely she would have to deny herself, at least until morning.  
    But, she allowed his lips to linger, and rewarded the thrill of his seduction by caressing his desire ever so gently. As he shuddered and moaned against her skin, she pressed her lips to his ear. “I am Ieria of the Revelry, my handsome tormentor. I cannot partake of flesh until the rite is complete to close the ceremony by signalling the others the orgy has begun.”  
    Face still tucked next to her neck, he groaned a pitiful sound somewhere between anger and despair. “Then I will stay by you until it has begun, and indulge us both until the sun rises and after.”  
    He felt her smile on his skin. “Not if you are selected as The Green Man,” she whispered, seeing there were a few impatient souls standing behind him, awaiting his attention - no doubt wanting much of what Polly was currently receiving to give him their wreaths. “Then you will have to choose The Goddess, our Queen and pleasure them.”  
    “I will choose you.” His voice was so soft, she could barely hear it, but the goose-flesh that spread over her from horn to hoof at not only the power of his words, but an ambient magic that seemed to have also heard filled her with a warring sense of dread and anticipation.  
    “You cannot,” she whispered, pulling back to look at him, and finding that within inches of his face, she wasn’t certain she’d be able to resist his lips. The truly pained expression he wore matched the pain she was experiencing in her soul just then, and the Revel faded away around her a moment. “I am Ieria, I must conduct the rite… I cannot participate.”  
    “The others resist no more when the Queen has found pleasure?” he asked.  
    Polly just nodded.  
    Through the pain of their current abstaining, he managed a cocky smirk. “Then I will name you my Queen and promise you, they will know when you are pleased by the cries I will wring from you, my beautiful Ieria. You will lead them in that, I swear.”  
    Well. Then.  
    It wasn’t often Polyhymnia, known for her singing, speeches and stories, was found speechless. In that moment, under the lust boring into her from hazel-green eyes, she had no words and her mouth hung open. Technically… he wasn’t wrong. _Technically_ , she would still be leading them and signalling when all could join. And while she thought perhaps it was still not the accepted means of doing this, she was suddenly cold and distracted when Astraeus stepped back from her, grinning as the din of the Revel returned to her ears.  
    “Who are you?” she asked, finding she’d not have been surprised to discover him Dionysus made flesh.  
    “The man who wants to be your new vice,” he smirked, and turned to draw one of his nearby admirers into a deep, seductive kiss. The young mortal man wilted and damn near fainted in Astraeus’s arms, the entire time, Astraeus watching Polly watching him. When the mortal could stand without falling over, he gifted Astraeus his wreath and smiled saying, “My King…” before swaying off into the crowd.  
    Astraeus just grinned as Polyhymnia grasped exactly what the rest of her night was going to be like - long and filled with aching, torturous anticipation.  
  
    And so it went. For the next few hours, as the Revelmakers filled their bellies with food and wine in preparation for the long night ahead of them, Polly watched as Astraeus temporarily seduced as many individuals as he could get his hands on, Man, Woman, Fae, Mortal… it mattered not. He was going to ensure that he became The Green Man, in order to claim her as the Goddess. His Goddess.  
    Every kiss, every hug, caress, fondle, was given enough attention to turn his “subjects” to butter, and each time without fail, wherever either of them were, Astraeus would make eye contact with Polly, as if to let her know each lover’s action was given with her in his mind. By the time it came to midnight and she was to Coronate the King, Polly thought she was going to fall over from the willpower it had stripped to not drag Astraeus by his horns behind a tree and fuck him until neither of them could walk. Ritual be damned.  
    And yet, she could not bring herself to do that to those gathered, those that depended on her to welcome Spring and Glamour back to the world with such fervor that it would last them well into next winter just to think back on.  
    But Hades’ icy back side, it was a near damn thing.  
    Moving to her Throne, she accepted help from her acolytes back up, praying that the world would stop swimming long enough for her to get this over with so she could indulge with someone, even if Astraeus had moved on. She’d lost track of him sometime before, as she’d been unable to continue their game and not break every spiritual standard to which she held herself. And there weren’t many, but he tried literally all of them at once, on the most important day of the year for her. Turning to the crowd, she held up her arms and swayed a touch, one acolyte steadying her with a hand on her leg. She smiled, trying to pretend like she was drunk, despite not having yet had any wine.  
    “My beloved revelers, friends old and new,” she started, scanning the crowd for Astraeus, only to realize he stood within arm’s reach before her, watching her carefully and poised for something… to catch her if she fell. He was covered in wreaths - as many as could be not-obnoxious around his neck, wrapped up his arms, tucked in the waistband of his tabbard, and even looped over his horns and tail. For all the men and women that came forward, having been gifted their own wreaths, it was very clear Astraeus was going to be king.  
She took a deep breath as the world steadied a bit around her. Almost there. Almost done, and even if she wasn’t going to lie with Astraeus the Green Man tonight, she would lie with someone tonight, and then Astraeus tomorrow. All of tomorrow. And potentially the next day.  
    These thoughts revived her a bit, and she smiled down to him from her stone. “I believe you have selected your King.” Her eyes met his and their gazes locked for a little longer than was casual, and Polly realized she’d never made her wager as to who would be Queen. Not after his declaration early that evening, and not now. Seeing his eyes all prior doubts or upsets were erased. She knew; he was going to choose her.  
    “You have chosen the Green Man,” she said, and while the magic allowed the hushed crowd to hear her, she was speaking directly to him now. “Now, Green Man, choose your Queen, and our Goddess with whom you will couple to revive the world.”  
    He was still watching her a touch warily, questioning if perhaps they had gone too far in the game. But Polly smiled. She didn’t blame him. How could either of them have known he would so quickly become the thing she could not deny, despite his words declaring such to be his goal? They couldn’t have. But he stepped forward, and held his hand up to her. A few people in the crowd gasped, and one of Polly’s newer acolytes asked, “Can that happen?” to one of the more established. No one seemed to have the answer. Not even Polly. It had never happened before to her knowledge.  
    All eyes were on her… except for her own that were glued to his. She felt the collected held breath, the bubble of growing magic under pressure that was waiting to be released before it exploded. The Rite was still happening. The Ritual would not be stopped, it was just waiting. She felt the very eyes of Dionysus himself on her, but could glean no insight from the neutrality of that power.  
    And all she wanted was to take his hand.  
So, she did.  
    The moment her fingers touched his, the Grove exploded into a cacophony of sounds. Music, laughter, applause, wails of disappointment, cheers, jeers and explicit requests rang through the trees around them. For Polly, there was no one else in those moments, but a dark haired satyr that was smirking at her as if he’d just won a contest of the Gods.  
    Arms wrapped around her hips, he lifted her from her stone triumphantly, and with no issue, carried her to the largest bonfire as she grinned down at him. Strength returning, her nausea was morphing once more into anticipation as her body ached to feel his against her.  
    Letting her down slowly, so that her skin ran over his in the firelight, an acolyte came to claim her stave, and a circle was formed around them, and the bonfire. The drums changed so a slow, steady, primal rhythm. She knew this rhythm, as did he. It would be the rhythm to which they remade the world. Normally, the dance was to build the anticipation of the New King and Queen who may not have previously known one another. Given her night thus far, there was a good chance that she would be undone the moment he touched her, let alone was inside of her.  
    While it was a step they did not need, not if the look of raw, unbridled lust in Astraeus’s expression was any indication in addition to Polly’s state, it was an expected step. They didn’t discuss it, the just started to move in time with the beat. He seemed to understand the tempting of Fate he’d already wrought with choosing her, the concern underlying in Polly’s mind presently, but drowned by the welling of aching need he’d coaxed from her all night. She would have pled with him to dance first, for the ritual… but he already knew. Which was good since she wasn’t confident she had a voice anymore.  
    His hands roved over her skin as their hips swayed in unison, pressed together as they were, and for the first time since he’d made her his promise, she was able to indulge herself and touch him. It was somewhere between the sweetest of pleasures and the most agonizing pain - like a fist clenched too tightly for too long.  
    He dipped her back, holding her pelvis to his and supporting her back, her hair touching the ground, watching as the white skin of her breasts was fully exposed to him for the first time all evening, and she felt the reaction in his sex and much as she heard him moan over the drums. When she was righted again, she was smiling. A touch of control had returned, and she no longer was denying herself anything. No, she would have him here, now, in front of the Revel and the Gods themselves, and spend the rest of the evening indulging herself in him.  
    Pupils dilated so that she could barely see the green of his irises anymore, she knew her eyes had to be similar. It was time. The magic was ready for them.  
    As the crowd gathered more closely, Polly could feel the thrum of magic and energy in the people around them. While the orgy would seal the spell, and would not begin until her darling Astraeus had pleasured her, some people were too overcome to wait. She didn’t blame them. She’d been crawling out of her very skin all night just to be within arm’s reach of the man easing her down to the warm ground near the fire. If he wasn’t within her soon, she might actually kill someone.  
    Hand on either side of her, to hold himself up, Polly watched as Astraeus shuddered when she accepted his hips between her knees. She’d been about to give him a conceited smile, but she felt the first touch of his sex to hers and all thought evaporated from her mind. Eyes locked, one thrust and he was inside of her and there was nothing else. Her hands gripped his shoulders, coming up to weave her fingers behind his neck and pulled him down into a deeply hungry kiss by the horns - as she’d been fantasizing about all night. If she needed water, his kiss was that water. If she needed air, his breath was that air. As his desire thrust within her again and again, she clung to him with legs, arms and lips. Whimpering as it wasn’t enough - she needed more, need him faster for all the torture he’d ministrated that evening.  
    One strong hand gripped her hip, and she got her wish. He movements sped, each thrust of his body into hers grew in rapidity and fervor building the fire low in her belly to that inevitable edge. He was a skill lover and before she’s quiet expected it, the fire in her belly erupted through her veins. It seemed Astraeus was a man of his word, as the cries that escaped Polly’s throat were numerous and split the sky with the echo of her pleasure. The gathered and on edge crowd exploded into cheers, and the orgy began around them.  
    Sweating and short of breath, Polly looked up to Astraeus, still hard and within her as he smiled that smarmy grin of his. Polly couldn’t help but smile back as hands and bodies began to fill in around them, and test their welcome to the Green Man and Goddess. But Astraeus laid down over her, keeping their bodies still entwined as he stole a kiss and whispered, “I’m not done with you yet.”  
    “I don’t want you to ever be done with me,” she gasped as he moved and another shock of pleasure wracked her entire being.  
    With a chuckle against her ear as his lips began making magic at her neck, her lover resumed their passions. It was not until he’d found his first release that Astraeus allowed anyone else to join them. It seemed important to him, and something about it branded Polly’s soul. After that, they joined fully into the orgy, but were never out of contact with one another the rest of the evening.  
    As the dawn approached, the sea of sated flesh and sleeping lovers covering the whole of her Grove’s ground, Polly and Astraeus continued to make love in the dying firelight. Insatiable in one another, over the evening they’d wound down from raw, needful fucking to slow, sweet love making. Polly sat astride his hips, gyrating to bring him to climax for the umpteenth time that night, and found herself undone shortly before he gripped her hips and roared one last time.  
    Letting him move beneath her until his flacid flesh could be wrung no more, Polly slid from above him and melted to his side, as Astraeus’s arm clutched her close. Fingers dancing  into her hair and hold her tightly against him, her lover’s lips peppered kisses over the skin of her forehead. Her own arm draped over him above where their legs twined, Polyhymnia had never known such satisfaction.  
    “I believe, my King, that you may have bound us together for eternity,” she whispered against his chest.  
    “I could think of worse fates,” he smirked. “And I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t a goal after the first few moments of being inside you.”  
    The delicious thrill that went through her at his words brought her to shudder in delight. His lips pressed a kiss to her forehead, and Polly found herself growing heavy in the glow of dawn. “I have plans for you tomorrow, my King.”  
    She was too tired to notice his hesitation, but his voice rumbled from his chest in answer, “I look forward to all of your plans, and when we can next enjoy them all, my beloved Polly.”


End file.
